Save the Last Dance for me
by Shimmersea
Summary: This story makes very little sense, but, take it with a pinch of salt. Check out cardsandstuff, underscores between each word, on LJ. It's a great RPG.


HE COULDN'T DANCE. That wasn't him being shy, or modest. He really couldn't dance. If normal bad dancers had two left feet, he had three left feet, and they were all broken and horribly disfigured. It was something just _beyond_ him, short of the Macarena and the Hokey Pokey, and he forgot even those. There were countless affairs that required dancing that he would attend, but all he was brave enough to do was sit and glower at anyone who looked like they were even thinking of asking him to go out on the dancefloor.

On the other end of the spectrum, nobody could dance like she did. She was almost inspiring to watch, even when she was just waltzing with a guy she didn't know. Now she could be seen Friday and Saturday in a ballet preformance at the Civic Centre, which was also beautiful to watch, but this was somehow completely different. It almost felt like, to him, that she was gracing the rest of them with her presence, blessing them just by letting them watch. The person who actually got to dance with her had to be touched by some God in a past life. A reincarnated pope, or saint, perhaps.

Dancing with her looked like an addiction. Once you had, you wanted more. She always seemed to have someone hovering, waiting for the songs to change, or a tap on the shoulder, with someone wondering if they could cut in. She would dance with anyone, everyone, that asked, it seemed, and sometimes people who didn't. He remembered the last wedding they'd attended, she'd danced with Yuugi's grandfather, ignoring the gropes he'd throw into every dip and twirl. The one before that, she'd danced with a two year old flower girl who was crying about something or other, which proved to make the litte thing feel better. People had been very taken with this moment, and a picture of her dancing with that little girl, held comfortably in her arms, her skirt swirling behind her, the girl smiling, even though the tracks from her tears still stained her cheeks, ended it in quite a few scrap-books and Wedding books. And of course, she'd dance at least once with both Yuugi and Otogi. It annoyed him, when she danced with Otogi. He wasn't classically trained, perhaps, but he was a good dancer, and you could tell how delighted she was when they danced together. Yuugi, however, was hardly a better dancer than he was, he was just a little bit better of a sport about it.

All in all, she'd rarely sit down, after she got out to the floor, so he had to be sure to make her eat before she ventured out.

Her dancing at weddings and fancy parties was beautiful. Usually she'd be wearing something black -- he had told her it looked morbid, especially for weddings, but her usual reply was something along the lines of 'I don't care'. Knee length, half sleeved, modestly cut dresses. For something in the spring or summer, she'd on occasion chose a sundress. Or sometimes, pretty blue or lilac, generally because she was a bridesmaid. Her hair was usually swept out of her face, and no matter what combination of these things it happened to be, she was always painfully elegant, and always got quiet whispers as she passed by each table. But frankly, he thought she deserved that, even though it could spark jealousy in him from time to time.

She hated it when he got jealous. Complained that it only said that he didn't trust her. But he could help it. He knew why most of the guys she danced with were there --- weddings were great places to pick up women. Mainly because weddings made them crave commitment. They'd often ask for her number, or offer to give her theirs. Well, he didn't know that for sure, seeing as generally they were out of earshot when this conversation came up, but she'd always shake her head, saying she'd see them again at the next wedding, before leaning in to give them a peck on the cheek. Everyone she danced with got a peck there. That was the most anyone got, maybe, but he hated that especially -- and then she'd twirl back to the dancefloor.

This were completely different when they went out at night.

Sometimes they could get Otogi or Yuugi to join them, but hardly any of their friends went out to party anymore. He didn't understand, why they were all getting so serious _so young_. That had been the problem between his parents. His mother had hardly been sixteen when they'd married, his father one year short of a decade older, and they'd been only married half a year by the time he had shown up. They had the same birthday. The day she'd turned seventeen, he'd been born.

What a great birthday present.

At any rate, sometimes Otogi or Yuugi would tag along, but usually it was just the two of them. Now, he never went to the clubs for the dancing. He would have been just as happy to go to a bar. It would have been less noisy. But she always had to go to a club, so she could 'go dancing'. When she did that every day, he didn't understand why she needed more. He would have let her go alone, but the jealousy kept creeping up in his head, about who she was dancing with, and what she was doing with them, and after two or three times of her going alone, he'd had to come along.

The way she dressed for clubs didn't help him any. She would curl her dark hair and leave it loose, wear red lipstick, a short skirt, revealing top. Her favorite lately was a red backless sequined number, but she also had a corset that she saved just for clubbing. ...Well. Maybe not _just_ clubbing. But he didn't kiss and tell.

And when she was clubbing, the dancing was obviously different. They weren't going to be playing a mellow waltz at a club. When one danced at a club, you were generally touching at least three different people, and if you removed the clothing, it would be easy enough to call the action sex. He didn't like the idea that she was out in an orgy waiting to happen.

He'd told her he wanted to stop dancing, at least at clubs, only once. She hadn't talked for him to days, besides telling him that he had no right and no buisiness trying to tell her what to do. The only thing that got him back on her good graces was to buy her roses and to apologise.

It was hard, knowing that people who didn't know her, were down there next to her, by her, touching her. In fact, they probably got farther with her every night than he had on their third date. She was generally such a prude, it was almost painful, and then she'd be dancing, and she was like a different person. She was no less amazing to watch, though the lighting in most clubs wasn't the best. It was hard for him to watch her in clubs, though, because the dancing exuded sex, and people might object if he jumped her in the middle of a dance floor. The way her fingers danced across her own skin, or knotted in her hair, or the way she moved... It was painfully erotic.

But, if it was hard when people who didn't know her were dancing with her, it was possibly 100 times worse when she was dancing with someone she did know. When she was dancing with Otogi, it was hard remember that she'd promised she'd always be faithful to him. His hands all over her, her body against his, it drove him crazy. But how she loved to dance with Otogi anyway, even though she had to know how mad it made him.

It was generally very, very late in the morning when she made it over to the bar, usually looping her arms around him, telling him how badly her feet hurt, then asking if he was ready to go home.

If he wasn't planning on drinking, they'd take his motorcycle. On occasion, when she insisted her feet were too sore to walk on anymore, he'd carry her there, and she'd hold onto him, giddy from her night. Generally she was very distracting, nibbling on his neck or pressing kisses around his earlobe, making it hard to concentrate on what he was doing. If he'd had something to drink, they'd wander to the parking garage where she'd parked her car, and she'd drive them back to their apartment. On the motorcycle, the trip always seemed shorter, but in the car, she'd talk to him, in a voice that was rather faint over the radio. Reach over, link their fingers together. Tell him how much he meant to her. In a way, he was glad that there was an even balance between the two modes of transportation, because it was quite possible he needed that quiet reasurring voice.

Their appartment wasn't large, but that had never been a problem for them. It had a kitchen, which she'd insisted on, and a living room, which _he'd _insisted on. There was one bedroom, no closets. He'd built a make-shift one for her, and one for him, so they wouldn't have to stare at their clothes all the time. She'd chosen the curtains and the comforter for the bed. It was a mesh of the two of them, and he loved to be there. He could only hope she felt the same.

According to their friends, they were the most sexually active. This made her laugh, and her excuse was that he was perpetually horny. He didn't think that was the case until they'd moved in together, and were having sex everyday, probably twice if he got his way. And while one would think that would start to bore, nothing with her was ever boring.

After clubbing, she'd generally sit on the back of the couch, waiting for him to take off his shoes and lock the door, before starting to do a dance that only he got to see. He'd teased her once, asking when she'd been a stripper, but that had only earned him a smack. She was damn good at it, though, and managed to make taking off anything sexy. First thing that went was whatever sort of jewelry she'd used that night. It generally wasn't much. Next was whatever sort of top she'd been wearing, then that strip of fabric she claimed was a skirt. Once she was left only in her underwear, she'd come forward and kiss him, purring like a kitten in the process.

And nine times out of ten, she'd ask if he wanted to take a shower. The answer would always, always be yes.

Eventually, he'd throw on some sort of pajama pants, and she'd throw a tanktop over her undergarments and they'd go to bed. If they'd gone out, it would easily be five in the morning before they finally got to the bed. By this time, she was noticably tired. She worked longer hours than he did, and even if she didn't, she got tired more easily. She'd probably be in bed before he finally came into the room, as he would go watch TV after the shower, sometimes. Whether she was waiting for him there, or if she was already asleep didn't matter. He'd get in beside her, and she'd shift towards him, snuggling against his side. If she was awake, she'd lean forward and kiss him, telling him she loved him.

He'd echo it back, and she would smile, kissing him once more, before settling back down to sleep, whispering 'goodnight' into his skin, her breath ghosting across the surface and making his hair stand on end. It rarely took her more than a minute or two to fall asleep once she was in bed, and after she was, he'd take her hand and stare at the ring on her finger.

It wasn't an engagement ring. He didn't want to be engaged. He frankly didn't want to get married, ever, even though he knew she wanted nothing more. He wanted to make her happy, but he couldn't see himself ever getting married. It just didn't make sense to him. He didn't want to end up like his parents. So he'd given her a promise ring instead. It was an expensive ring, one most people would use for engagement, but he couldn't get himself to propose.

So she was left with a promise ring, and a boyfriend who refused to dance with her.

He was pretty sure the fact he refused to dance with her hurt her more than the fact he refused to marry her. Marriage was nice, but dancing was her life, and she wanted to do it with him. She tried to trick him into it in the funniest ways, like turning on the radio and dancing like a crazy person to a silly song, or when he'd give her a hug, she'd try to turn it into dancing, but he'd always pull away.

It hurt, to see the look on her face when he did, but he didn't know what else to do.

He liked to pretend things were perfect between them. But he knew that they weren't. Eventually, she would tire of his promise, wanting more. Something he couldn't give. And she would eventually walk away, even though they were perfect together. He knew, that it would happen. He didn't want it to, but he knew it would. Or one night, he'd wake up, and he wouldn't want her anymore. It had happened to other men before.

They would grow apart eventually.

And one day, he'd gotten home early, and he'd waited. She came home late, her hair falling from her makeshift bun, a pair of cotton pants thrown over her leotard and tights, sweater wrapped around her. She'd greeted him with a smile, putting her things in the closet, before coming to get a kiss. He stopped her, holding out his hand instead. She tilted her head, confused, but after a moment she took it anyway.

And they danced.

He wasn't good. He knew that he wouldn't be. But she loved every second of it, he could tell. It seemed like time might last forever, and he wouldn't mind, if they could only stay like this. But somehow, for some reason, they finally stopped. He pulled her close, wishing he could find some other alternative, but he couldn't.

If things had to end, he wanted to be able to remember things when they had been good.

He told her that he didn't love her anymore. That they had to see other people. He'd never forget the look on her face. He hated to see her cry, and it was even worse knowing that he'd caused it. She cried, and asked, why, why, sobbing into his shirt. She'd never really calmed down, but she'd given back his ring, and told him no matter what, she'd love him forever.

And then she'd left.

She'd never come back for most of her things.They remained, haunting him with what he'd had.

He wasn't sure how long it was after, but he saw her at another wedding. She was first on the dance floor, as usual, but this time, it was because she was dancing with her new husband. She'd always loved to dance with Otogi, hadn't she? Now she had no qualms about it, either. It had almost been enough for him to stalk straight out of the room. After that, though, Otogi kept her off the dance floor. She sat instead behind a table, eating whatever food that he set in front of her, or greeting people, thanking them for coming.

People were actually starting to put everything away when she finally made it back to her dancefloor.

He wasn't sure where Otogi was, but it didn't matter, anyway, and he asked her to dance again. One more time. She looked heartbroken, but nodded quietly stepping in next to him. He'd missed having her so close.

He still wasn't any good. She still didn't care. She cried on his good shirt.

She told him she still loved him, even though she knew he was seeing someone else. That she hoped he was happy now.

He wanted to tell her that he'd never stopped loving her. That the person he was 'seeing' didn't mean anything. But he didn't. He told her that she needed to move on. That he was happy. She nodded stiffly, telling him she'd always hoped that he'd find someone to make him happy. Even if it couldn't be her, she wanted him to be happy.

He didn't say anything.

There was a shout from the exit. Otogi wanted to leave, so everyone could send them off on their vacation.

She leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek.

All of her dance partners got a peck on the cheek.

And then she left, dancing in and out of his life like she always had. It was hard to watch her go, but he knew it was for the best. This was what she'd wanted ... a man who would marry her. Dance with her. Love her. Be there for her, always.

Something he never could have done.

Fin.

OOC: Very trippy, I know. But the girl is Anzu, of course, and the Male lead is Jounouchi. I'm not even sure what his problem his.

And now, for the plug! If you're interested in RPing, please check out cardsandstuff on LJ! We're mostly YGO, but we are now open to any fandoms.


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